


one more time, slowly

by moonlights0nata



Series: try again [1]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! VRAINS
Genre: "And I will sit here consumed with lust for the rest of the evening"--Ryoken, Aiyusa and AoiMiyu are here as well, Alternate Universe - Exes AU, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, But won't put in the tag as they are not The Main ship, M/M, YEARNING.DOC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24224221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonlights0nata/pseuds/moonlights0nata
Summary: After five years, Ryoken had expected his eyes would stop finding Takeru first in a room.Ryoken and Takeru are exes and meet again at a wedding. Ryoken is set on avoiding him all night; Takeru has something else in mind.
Relationships: Fujiki Yuusaku & Revolver | Kougami Ryouken, Homura Takeru/Revolver | Kougami Ryouken, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Revolver | Kougami Ryouken & Sugisaki Miyu
Series: try again [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1748434
Comments: 12
Kudos: 26





	one more time, slowly

**Author's Note:**

> IT IS HERE, for those that saw me scream on twitter about it, you know what this is !! EXES AU IS HERE !!
> 
> Apparently I killed my beta reader with this AJKSHD but really thank you so so much Pachi (aka A Caffeinated Crisis) for proofreading this !! <33 ❤️❤️
> 
> This was really fun to write, also, I hope it is to read too !
> 
> Comments/Kudos/Etc. always appreciated~

After five years, Ryoken had expected his eyes would stop finding Takeru first in a room.

Yet the moment he walked in, like a magnet with its exact opposite, like a moth to the flame, his gaze turned at the familiar white and red of his hair. Lilac met blue and time paused for an instant, recognition dawning on both of them. 

Time had only made Takeru more handsome, if possible; even from a distance, Ryoken could see his face clearly, his hair pushed back, donning a red suit that fit him like a glove. Five years, and Takeru still was dazzling, a bright spot in the room; five years and Ryoken’s heart still betrayed him, squeezing in his chest when Takeru turned back to his conversation partner. Time resumed.

Ryoken knew he would be here: Aoi and Miyu were mutual friends of theirs and had extended their wedding invitations to everyone they knew; for a selfish moment, Ryoken might have considered not coming, but he’d never do that to Miyu. She’d made him her _man of honor_ , after all. 

“Ryoken.”

He glanced up, seeing Yusaku walking up to him. The navy suit he was wearing was baggy on him, definitely loaned from someone.

“Yusaku.” He nodded his head. “Still haven’t brought a suit for yourself, I see.”

Yusaku shrugged.

“When would I even wear it, aside from events like these?” 

Yusaku’s eyes flickered between the corner Takeru stood at and back to Ryoken.

“Will you be okay?” Yusaku asked. 

“I thought you’d be more worried for him.”

“You’re my friend, too.” What had changed, in all this time, was that it was easier for Ryoken to lean into that word, to accept it. Yusaku was certainly an invaluable friend; even after Ryoken and Takeru had broken up, he hadn’t picked sides. He had often been on the other end of a call when Ryoken needed him.

“...I will be fine.” Ryoken shook his head. He _should_ be over it.

Yusaku sighed, giving him an incredulous look.

“You’re going to avoid him the whole night, aren’t you.”

“ _Precisely._ ” 

Yusaku made a subtle tilt of his head to the side.

“Then you might want to run now.”

Ryoken’s heart did a lurch in his chest. He didn’t have to look to know what Yusaku meant. 

He cleared his throat, fixing his tie, and walked off. “I will see you later, Yusaku.”

He was barely a few steps away when he heard Takeru greet Yusaku, with that fond edge to his voice. Then--

“Ryoken.”

His breath hitched slightly. His steps almost faltered, he _almost_ stopped and turned, but he forced himself not to. Pretending he didn’t hear Takeru, Ryoken got lost among the other people at the reception.

\- - - *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ - - - *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ - - - 

The ceremony, in itself, had passed rather quickly, and it was about what anyone could expect of a wedding; a few people tearing up (Akira Zaizen among them, to be expected but still startling to see), a few cheering (Ryoken counted Takeru, Emma and Ai among the loudest; the brides didn’t have many excitable friends) and somehow, _somehow_ , there was still a crying baby among the invited. 

The first half of the wedding party passed rather quickly; there was eating and toasting; Akira naturally gave his speech for Aoi, which was entirely too long but heartfelt and embarrassing. Aoi buried her face in her hands, probably regretting everything.

“Ten years is a long time to know a person...but right when you think you understand them, they appoint you to give a speech at their wedding.” Ryoken opened his own speech with, arching an eyebrow. “Frankly, I do not know what she was thinking.”

“Yeah, me neither.” Miyu said, loud enough to hear. Part of the room laughed.

Ryoken kept his speech short, even if summarizing ten years of being friends with Miyu was possibly one of the hardest things to do. 

“She’s both the fault for my lack of sanity and the one that keeps it intact.” He was saying, by the end of it. Somewhere in the audience, Spectre was probably agreeing with him. “In all these years she has been a source of troubles and support alike not just for myself but others.” He glanced at Aoi minutely. “And I have never seen her shine brighter than with the woman she stands with today.” Aoi blushed at this. Ryoken rose his glass, smiling at the both of them.

“I wish you both a long time of happiness. It is well deserved.”

Clapping, cheering, the clinking of glasses; the party continued. Most people gravitated naturally to the dancefloor after they were done with their meals.

Aoi and Miyu swung together now, locked in a dance, both of their dresses fluttering as they moved. Ryoken met Miyu’s gaze over Aoi’s shoulder and she beamed at him. Memories came to him, of hours spent on the phone listening to her ramble about the best way to propose to Aoi only for Aoi to be the one to propose it first; looking for a dress together (with a reluctant Spectre dragged along). One way or another Ryoken had been involved in little details per her request. 

Above all else, he was happy for her. He was never quite sure how their friendship began, but when it came to Miyu, that seemed to be the norm. She had a way to sneak into your life and stay there for the ride, but you wouldn’t hear Ryoken complain. She was one of his steadiest friends and had been there during his biggest slumps. 

When the brides finished their waltz, they started mingling with everyone else and Miyu went straight for him.

“Ryo-chan!”

Ryoken stumbled back two steps when she wound her arms around his neck but he steadied himself, returning the gesture.

“Congratulations again, Miyu.”

“Thank you.” She was red faced when she stepped back, practically glowing. She clasped his hands, tugging him forwards. “C’mon, dance with me! I want to show my best man off.”

He snorted, but allowed her to pull him to the dancefloor. Even in a long dress and heels, Miyu easily followed the fast and swingy beat; Ryoken had a hard time following her at first but her hands on his made him catch up with the pace.

“Man, did you see how Akira-chi was crying earlier?” She said when there was a lull in the song. A little further away, Akira was dancing with his sister, still looking a bit teary eyed. Miyu giggled. “Aoi-chan and Emma-chi are never gonna let him live it down.”

“It was...something.” 

The song, thankfully, changed to something more slow. They turned around other dancing couples and Ryoken’s eyes involuntarily found Takeru again, dancing with a very rigid faced Yusaku, who kept staring at their feet. Ryoken almost snorted; Yusaku was a terrible dancer. Then Takeru laughed, the sound reaching him over the music, and his heart did another leap against his will.

“Sooo--” Miyu nudged him, tilting her head towards them. She had one arm around him now. “You talk to Take-chan yet?”

“No.” He shook his head. “I have decided I will avoid him for the rest of the evening.”

“Ryo-chan, no!” Miyu huffed, leaning on the tips of her shoes. “C’moon, it’s been five years! Can’t you guys make up already? Or _make out_ , I dunno.”

“That will not happen.” Ryoken sighed, making them sway to the right, then back. “You know that. Even if it has been five years, I doubt he wishes to speak to me again.”

“But you miss him!” Miyu insisted. “And don’t even try to deny that, your drunk-ass told me that at two in the morning the other day on the phone.”

Ryoken winced inwardly, pressing his eyes shut.

“We have talked about this.” He opened his eyes, sparing Takeru another glance. He immediately turned away, finding him looking back. “I have hurt him enough. It’s not a matter of whether I miss him or not.”

Miyu’s pout only grew. Sixteen or twenty-six, her expressions remained much the same. 

“I worry about you, Ryo-chan.”

“Well, don’t.” Ryoken said. “Tonight is not about me.” He smiled, with a soft quality to it that time had given him. “Are you happy?”

Miyu puffed her cheeks, in that way that said she wanted to be mad at him for one thing but couldn’t for another reason. She broke into laughter, smile so wide it split her face. 

“I am.” She turned her gaze away, but Ryoken knew who she was looking at. “I really am.”

“Then that’s all that matters right now.”

“Don’t think I’m done with you, though, mister!” She challenged, turning swiftly towards him. “We will talk more about this.” The song came to an end and they stopped. Miyu’s grin had an mischievous edge to it as she looked at something over his shoulder. “After I’m done forcing Spe-chan to dance with me.” She detached herself from him, picking up her dress and bouncing away. “Oh, Spe-chan!~”

Ryoken glanced over to see Spectre jolt and try to avoid her, to no avail; Miyu had already caught him and she was not going to let him go for a while. Ryoken shook his head, chuckling privately behind a hand, before making his way to one of the tables with drinks, picking himself another glass of champagne.

From here he had a good vantage point of the room. Everything was decorated in shades of pink, a few aquamarines, and navy blue; the lights were low, save for the glittering fairy lights that hung off the ceiling and a few pillars, giving the atmosphere an almost magical feeling (Aoi’s personal idea); tables draped with a dark cloth lined the circumference with food and drinks, lighter colored flowers pinned at the corners. There were many familiar faces around: the Kusanagi brothers, the older seemingly engaged in a heated conversation with Emma, over by the sandwich table, while the younger zoned out while nursing a drink of his own; Yusaku looked ready to abort the dance floor and seclude himself in a corner but Aoi snatched him at the last minute for a dance and he was awkwardly swaying along with her; Takeru was walking over to him--

Takeru was walking over to him. Ryoken almost choked on his drink.

His first natural reaction was to pretend he didn’t see Takeru, walking away as discreetly as possible, and attempt at getting lost among the other guests. It was pathetic and cowardly but he couldn’t do this right now.

However, Ryoken stood out because of his height and his hair, and Takeru’s red suit was just as easy to spot in a room where most people had chosen more sober dress colors. It almost felt like a game of chase, whenever he saw Takeru approach and Ryoken would try to find another corner to hide. 

It was clear staying put in a single place wasn’t going to help him. 

Ryoken downed what was left of his drink and left his empty glass on a table. He approached the person closest to him and patted them on the arm.

“Would you care to dance?”

“Oh, Ryoken-sensei, I thought you’d never ask.”

Ryoken looked up to find Ai grinning at him with mirth. Ryoken made a face; of all people, it had to be Ai that was conveniently close--but he’d do. He dragged Ai with him to a moderately crowded spot on the dance floor.

“My, my so eager!” Ai said, pulling Ryoken in by the waist. He was only taller than him by a few inches, but Ryoken allowed him to take the lead this time. “This is the first time you’ve been so desperate for my company--”

Ryoken scowled at him.

“Be quiet and lead properly, Ai.” 

“So moody!” Ai laughed, twirling them expertly; Ai could be surprisingly elegant with his moves, despite his ridiculous personality. “Shouldn’t you be overjoyed on a night like this? There’s love in the air! Not for you, though, I guess--”

Ryoken purposely stepped on his foot, earning him a whine.

“ _Shut up_.”

“Ow, ow--what’s got into you?” 

“I’m using you to avoid an uncomfortable situation.”

Ai smirked.

“Is it Take--” 

“If you’re going to speak, talk about something else or be _quiet._ ” Ryoken cut him off.

“ _Fineeeee_.” Ai drawled. “You’re so touchy tonight.” They bumped into another dancing couple by accident and Ai moved them away to a more deserted spot. “Did you see how I caught the bouquet earlier? Do you think that’s a sign?”

“A sign.” Ryoken stated plainly. 

“A sign about whether or not I should _finally_ ask Yusaku-chan if he wants to get married!” Ai beamed. “We’ve been together for over eight years, isn’t it about time?” 

Ryoken wasn’t convinced. 

“Is Yusaku the type to care about marriage?”

“Not really.” Ai pouted. “Honestly I just want to have a party like this one!” He sighed dreamily. “And see Yusaku-chan in a well-tailored suit--or a dress, even! He’d look stunning either way--” His smile turned goofy and adoring. “And then when the party’s over...I would pick him up in my arms and kick the door open to our room so we can have a long, sweet night full of--”

“ _I don’t want to know._ ” Ryoken interrupted, annoyed. “Talk with your partner about that, not me.”

“Ehhhh, but you told me to change the subject! And Yusaku’s my favorite subject!” Ai whined. “You’re a terrible conversation partner--I’ll switch you out!”

“Huh?” 

Ai had a dangerous glint in his eye, the kind that could only speak trouble for Ryoken. He confirmed this immediately; Ai lifted Ryoken’s hand up, making him twirl long enough to make him dizzy, and then pushed him promptly into someone else.

“Ai!” Ryoken yelled back with irritation. Ai was already running off, snickering.

“Good luck, Ryoken-sensei~”

Ryoken clicked his tongue, quickly turning towards the person he’d crashed into with an apology ready in his tongue.

“My apologies for that--”

Takeru stared up at him and Ryoken’s words died in his throat. In that moment Ryoken became aware of his arm around his waist and his other hand on his shoulder, keeping Ryoken steady on his feet.

“It’s okay.” He said.

The song changed then, to a slow and mellow beat, and Takeru’s gaze flickered to the side before turning back to him.

“Can I have this one?”

Ryoken’s throat felt dry. He managed to nod, placing a tentative hand on Takeru’s shoulder. Takeru took hold of the other one and pulled him along with the beat. For a moment it was too much; the warmth, the closeness, everything so painfully familiar. His mind, traitorous, reminded him of lazy mornings and a song playing on the radio, of Takeru’s hand intertwined with his like this and pulling him along to dance. It reminded him of kisses tasting of coffee and something sweeter.

Ryoken’s face revealed nothing of his inner turmoil but he couldn’t meet Takeru’s eyes. 

“How have you been?” Takeru asked, conversational. Ryoken hummed past the clog on his throat.

“Fine.” It sounded like a dry answer even to his ears. He glanced at Takeru hesitantly, but found no animosity staring back. Ryoken wasn’t sure if that was comforting or not. “You…” He swallowed. “You look well.”

“Thanks.” Takeru said. “I’ve been okay.”

Silence. It was definitely awkward, definitely tense, but Takeru gave no signs that he was upset with him. His eyes wouldn’t leave Ryoken’s, as if silently trying to convey something to him. Ryoken hated himself for finding hope in that, a hope he thought he’d extinguished long ago. He wanted nothing more than to run away; he wanted nothing more than for Takeru to keep him close and for their eyes to stay locked like this, a reminiscence of the glances they would share across from each other.

But Ryoken was a coward, and thus he looked down at their feet, breaking whatever spell stood between them. 

The music trailed off. Ryoken untangled himself from Takeru, intent on turning and bolting. But Takeru’s hand tugged at his.

“If I let go of you now, will you keep running from me?”

Ryoken pressed his lips together. 

_Don’t let go._

He couldn’t say it. 

“I’m good at that.” He said instead. “Aren’t I?”

Takeru flinched and his grip eased, enough for Ryoken to slip his hand free and walk off, with no destination in mind. He shouldered past a few people until two hands pressed to his chest to stop him.

“Ryoken.” It was Yusaku. Whatever expression he saw on Ryoken’s face was enough for his brow to pinch slightly with concern. Then: “There’s a balcony. Over there.” Somewhere to have some space to breathe. Ryoken nodded wordlessly his thanks and headed for it, leaving the bustling party behind him.

The light summer breeze greeted him once he stepped outside through the glass doors. The balcony was wide and spacious, with a view of the backyard and the street further away. Fairy lights curled around the beams of the railing and the pillars at either side of the doors, and a few vines creeped up the walls.

Ryoken leaned on his elbows against the flat surface of the stone railing and stared off at the sky. It was blissfully quieter here, giving his mind some reprieve to think. 

Nothing had prepared Ryoken for the wave of longing he had felt the moment he first locked eyes with Takeru at the wedding reception. Even after all this time, even after knowing their break up had been for the best for both of them, Ryoken still wanted him. He didn't need to hear about a new lover or about how Takeru had moved on from everything; because knowing Takeru he would have already picked himself off the ground, he could have found his happiness in someone else’s arms. Ryoken didn’t want to know, when his heart longed and ached for him still, even when he didn’t have a right to. 

_“We’re breaking up.”_ Takeru had said, five years ago, his face tear stricken and scrunched up in anger _. “I’m fucking_ **_done_ ** _trying.”_

Takeru had made the choice for them both but it was Ryoken that had pushed them that far. His expression from that day was vivid in Ryoken’s mind.

He sighed shakily, rubbing a hand across his eyes, hanging his head between his shoulders. Even if his life seemed to have moved on, there was no way Ryoken was over Takeru. Not with everything he’d been to him; everything he still was; everything he could have been, if Ryoken had _let_ him. 

Yusaku came to check up on him after a while, settling with his back to the railing.

“Are you okay with this?”

“What do you mean?” He knew what Yusaku meant.

“Letting another five years pass by without talking to him. Not trying to fix things.” Yusaku was looking upwards; his expression would have looked bored to anyone else, blank. Ryoken knew better. “...Are you fine with giving him up?"

“...” There was no point in denying this to Yusaku; he knew the truth. “It’s better like this.”

"No, it's not." Yusaku sighed deeply, clearly exasperated. “You’re a stupid hypocrite.”

Ryoken snorted without humor.

“So you’ve told me many times.”

“So has anyone who knows you.” 

They both fell silent. The trees rustled from a momentary, stronger gust of wind. Neither of them had ever needed to speak much to appreciate each other’s company; if Ryoken could be considered a man of few words, Yusaku was of even fewer, but their shared silence had never felt awkward. 

“You’re not going back inside?” Ryoken asked, eventually.

“I wanted to take a break.” Yusaku scowled a little. “Sugisaki almost caught me.”

Ryoken chuckled. It was to be expected that she’d be determined to dance with everyone at least once.

“You didn’t even consider getting champagne before you came here?” Ryoken chastised him, leaning his cheek on his open palm. Yusaku rolled his eyes, but detached himself from the railing.

“Fine. I’ll try to get some.” He bumped Ryoken’s shoulder with his own. “Don’t mope too much while I’m gone.”

“Shut up.” Ryoken bumped him back before Yusaku left the balcony. He sighed, turning his eyes towards the garden again; a few crickets chirped as if conversing with each other. Ryoken found calm simply listening to them.

Steps behind him broke the quiet. Ryoken blinked; had Yusaku found drinks that fast?

A moment later, he saw red out of the corner of his eye. He stood up straighter, his heart jumping in his chest. 

“I’m not here to pick a fight, Ryoken.” Takeru said. He had a champagne glass between his fingers, looking at the liquid as it swirled. “I just want to talk.”

Ryoken watched his profile, admiring him for a greedy second; the tanned skin, the firm set of his shoulders, his hair pushed back out of his face. His features hadn’t lost their softness, but there was an unmistakable air of something more mature. Takeru had always been double edged; he held himself with an air of toughness, hands rough and built for fighting, but in his mannerisms he was tender, caring.

Takeru had always been a pillar, soft firm ground to fall into.

“Well, then.” Ryoken curled his fingers around his coat sleeve. “Talk.”

There’s a pause where Takeru seemed to contemplate how to start. 

“I told myself when I saw you tonight, I’d do nothing.” Takeru began. “It’s been five years, after all. You’d be over what happened; I should be over it.” He sighed. His words came slowly, as if he had been thinking about them. “I told myself I still wanted to be pissed off at you. Maybe resent you, a little.”

Ryoken’s sleeve scrunched up when he tightened his grip. He pressed his lips together. 

“Then I saw you walk in.” Takeru turned towards him. “And my first thought was _‘He still misses a lock of hair when pushing his hair back, huh.’_ ”

Ryoken’s eyes widened and his hand shot towards his hair; he’d combed his fringe back for a change, but Takeru always used to tease him that he missed hairs when he did. 

The sound of Takeru chuckling made him turn to him, embarrassed, but his traitorous heart fluttered seeing the smile that played on Takeru’s lips. 

“I’m lying.” Takeru said. “It looks okay.”

Ryoken cleared his throat, glancing off to the side.

“If you just came to make fun of me, save it.” It came out harsher than he intended it to. Takeru groaned.

“That’s not what I’m--Look, I’m trying to make this easy because you--” Takeru took a step towards him, leaving his glass on the railing. Ryoken involuntarily stepped back. “See, you keep avoiding me! You’ve never been this skittish around _me._ ” 

“I am not skittish.” He lied, turning his defenses up, every word he really wanted to say a vulnerable thing. “I just have nothing to say to you.”

For every step Takeru took towards him, Ryoken took one back.

“Oh yeah?” Takeru asked, incredulous. Soon, Ryoken’s back met the wall. He held his breath when Takeru’s arm caged him in; he was cornered. “You can’t even look at me properly right now.”

Ryoken hunched his shoulders and turned his head to face Takeru. He found his intense eyes fixed on him and they stayed locked in a staredown.

“I’m listening.” 

“You always do this.” Takeru scoffed. “Put up your walls and pretend nothing _affects_ you.” Takeru’s first curled in irritation. But then something else crossed his face then, something more resigned. “...Well, maybe this time it doesn’t.”

_Huh?_

“I’m not here to fight.” Takeru repeated. He lowered his arm from the wall, hanging his head a little. “I’m tired of being angry at you. What happened between us wasn’t just your fault--I’ve had enough time to think about it. About everything.”

Unlike Ryoken, Takeru had always been transparent with his emotions; he was trying to stay unperturbed but Ryoken could see it affected him, in the crease of his brows, the defeated fall of his shoulders.

“When I saw you, I just--” Takeru took another step forward, close enough that their chests were almost touching, and lifted his eyes to Ryoken again. There was a glimmer of something in his face. Ryoken held his breath, pressed himself against the wall. If he reached out, just a few inches, they’d touch. 

“I…” Takeru faltered. Bit his lip, then shook his head again, stepping back. “No. Sorry I--I won’t.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Nevermind.”

_What?_

“That’s all I wanted to say.” This time, it was Takeru that couldn’t look at him, as he walked back. “I’m sorry.”

Ryoken was frozen, for all of two seconds, watching Takeru turn his back to him. Walking away.

_“Are you okay with giving him up?”_

Ryoken detached himself from the wall and did what he wished he’d done five years ago; he reached out for Takeru, circling a hand around his wrist. Takeru’s step faltered, blinking back at him. 

Ryoken’s mouth opened and closed, the words stuck on his throat. Because nothing felt like the right thing to say, right now; all the feelings from the past years were clumped in his chest and ready to unfurl into a storm.

In the end, all he could say was: “I miss you.” In a hushed voice, but loud and vulnerable in the quiet of the night. Once he said them, he knew the mask he’d crafted around himself had cracked and that Takeru could see it in his face. The rest of his thoughts bubbled out of him without filter.

“But I don’t think I deserve to.” His grip loosened. “After the way I hurt you.”

“...Same as always, huh?” Takeru mumbled, turning towards him again. Ryoken glanced down at him, finding Takeru’s gaze exasperated but softer. “I hurt you, too.”

Ryoken pressed his lips together, fingers fiddling with his sleeve again. 

“I know you blame yourself for our break up.” Takeru continued. “But I have fault in it, too.”

“You didn’t--”

“No, let me--let me take responsibility, too.” Takeru’s conviction was unwavering. “Back then, I didn’t try to understand you at all. I just wanted to be angry and kept pushing everything on you instead of putting some effort in--in us.”

"I kept shutting you out." Ryoken murmured tiredly. "I wouldn't have let you understand. It was easier to deal with your anger than try to have something--" He swallowed. "--real."

Silence. The music playing inside reached them as if from a distant place, a mellow piano, a gentle violin guiding the melody. 

“I miss you too, Ryoken.” Takeru said. “That’s...what I was gonna say, before.” 

“Oh.” Ryoken breathed out, the small hope that had been budding in his chest blossoming. “I--” His shoulders sagged. “I didn’t expect you to.”

“It hit me when I saw you.” Takeru stepped forwards, and this time Ryoken didn’t step back. “When I heard your voice...When I had you close, again.”

Ryoken’s cheeks warmed. 

“Even after everything?”

“Yeah.” Takeru sighed. “I know we can’t go back and fix things. But I don’t want to wait another five years to see you again.” The fairy lights that trailed up the pillar and the door behind Takeru settled over him like a halo, the lights dancing on his face. His eyes seemed more vibrant, in that moment, with that determination that had pulled Ryoken in all those years ago.

“Can we try again?” Takeru took another step towards him, the tips of their shoes close to touching. “Take it...slower. The way we were supposed to.” His fingers brushed the back of Ryoken’s hand. “Even if it’s just as friends.”

 _Friends._ Ryoken’s heart wanted that and more; Ryoken’s mind said this was more than enough.

“Are you sure?” Ryoken nudged his fingers between the spaces of Takeru’s own.

“I know I want to try.” Takeru slotted their hands together, giving Ryoken’s hand a squeeze. “We have time.”

Time. When they were younger, Takeru had only thought of the present; Ryoken hadn’t had a choice for his future, his clock always ticking, knowing already what he was fated to be. It had always seemed like they were racing against time back then, always hurrying, never taking it slow. 

It could be different now.

“...If you would let me stand by your side again--” He squeezed Takeru’s hand back. “I would like to try.” 

“Yeah.” Takeru smiled, more radiant than any light. “Let’s try.”

Ryoken’s features softened, his own lips curling up with ease. There was a lightness in his chest; for the first time in the whole night, he felt like he could finally relax. With how close they stood together, it would be so easy to cross the gap and--

“Should we…head back inside?” Takeru asked, breaking Ryoken out of his thoughts. He was glancing down at their hands, his thumb moving absentmindedly over Ryoken’s hand. “I mean, I don’t really want to.” He mumbled. “But I kind of want to check if Yusaku got caught by Miyu. He’s the one that told me to come here.”

“I assumed he had.” Ryoken said. He would also much rather stay here, in the quiet. “Sure. Let’s go.”

They let go of each other’s hand with reluctance, almost. Takeru picked up the champagne glass, half forgotten by the railing, and then they walked back into the party.

“Oh, good. You didn’t kill each other.”

They both looked up at the sound of Yusaku’s voice. He had a rare amused smile on his lips, hands tucked casually on his pockets as he walked up to them.

“Traitor.” Ryoken said to him, without heat. Yusaku shrugged. 

“I was tired of watching you two making eyes at each other from across the room.” Yusaku had said similar words to them back in school, once. Ryoken squirmed a little in embarrassment. “And I did give Takeru your champagne.”

At that, Takeru eyed the glass in his hand. “Oh, that’s what this was for.” He chuckled, looking at Yusaku then at Ryoken, arching an eyebrow. “Guess we owe Yusaku a thank you?”

“If you want to thank me, help me keep Sugisaki away.” Yusaku sighed. “My feet are tired.”

\- - - *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ - - - *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ - - - 

The rest of the party passed quickly, as if in a blur; Ryoken couldn’t remember the last time Yusaku, Takeru and him had the chance to chat amiably all together, but Ryoken could tell Yusaku was glad about this development. They watched drunk guests make fools of themselves for a good remainder of the night; occasionally Ai came to complain that he was bored and Yusaku should dance with him. Instead, Yusaku dragged him away and they disappeared down a hall for a while. Ai had a pleased grin when they came back so Ryoken had a fair idea what went down. 

He had lost sight of Spectre for the most part--he had no doubt he’d snuck off at some point--but when he spotted him again, he had Jin dozing off on his shoulder and he looked about ready to pass out as well. 

By the end of it, despite the late hour, Miyu still had energy to loudly thank everyone for coming.

“And I’ll see you all in a month! Or two!” She swung an arm around Aoi’s waist. “Me and my very lovely _wife_ \--” She stressed the word, making Aoi roll her eyes fondly, “Will have a looong honeymoon!” 

Miyu obviously didn’t miss the fact that he and Takeru were in each other’s space again. As they exchanged their goodbyes, she grinned at them both.

“Congratulations on curing your stupidity!”

“Nah.” Takeru nudged him. “He’s still pretty stupid.”

Ryoken elbowed him back, jutting out his chin.

“Speak for yourself.”

They exchanged a fleeting look, saying more than words; the playful air around them felt like it had never left. 

Miyu was beaming at Ryoken when he looked back. She squeezed him specially tight before she left, whispering to him.

“I’m happy for you, Ryo-chan.”

“Thank you.” He muttered back. “Have a pleasant honeymoon, Miyu.”

Guests filtered out one after the other, many heading for their vehicles, others staying around the venue’s steps while they called for a cab to pick them up.

“You sure you don’t want a ride, Ryoken-kun?” Kusanagi asked from the driver seat of his van. Jin was asleep on the passenger’s seat and Ryoken could only hope Yusaku, Ai and Spectre were getting along in the back. "There’s still room for one more.”

“It’s alright. I’ll hail a cab.” Usually, he would have his car, but it was out for repairs. He wouldn’t trouble Kusanagi with this, given his apartment was in the opposite direction. “Thank you, though.”

“‘Kay. Get home safe, kiddo.” Kusanagi waved at him before grabbing the wheel and setting off. Ryoken leaned against a wall and pulled out his phone.

“Hey.” Takeru’s voice made him look up. He had a leather jacket on and was swinging a pair of keys around his finger. “You need a ride?”

Ryoken watched the keys dangle.

“You brought your bike?”

“Yep.” Takeru grinned lopsidedly. “So? Or have you lost your nerve for riding backseat?”

“Of course not.” Ryoken scoffed.

“Great. Then c’mon, your place is on the way to mine.”

Ryoken pocketed his phone, following after him.

“I could have moved.”

“Did you?”

“...No.”

Takeru snorted.

“Then there’s no problem.”

Takeru had parked his bike not far from the party venue. It was the same vibrant red Ryoken remembered; Takeru had been proud the day he finally got it. 

He tossed Ryoken a spare helmet he kept in the back compartment and put his own over his head. Ryoken mimicked him before eyeing the bike warily.

“What?” Takeru slung one leg over the seat, flashing him a smirk. “Scared after all?”

“No.” Ryoken huffed. He approached and settled behind Takeru on the bike. It roared to life a moment after and Ryoken’s fingers dug on Takeru’s hips.

“Hold on tight.”

Once the wheel made it to the street, they sped off down the road. Ryoken’s first instinct was to wind his arms around Takeru’s waist and hold on for dear life. Takeru’s body shook with laughter.

“Been a while huh?” He asked above the sound of the engine and the wind. Ryoken pinched his stomach. 

“Shut up and _drive._ ”

“Relax and _trust me._ ” Takeru shot back and in that moment, even after all this time--Ryoken did. Eventually he eased his grip and watched the city lights and trees they passed blur from the speed. 

\- - - *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ - - - *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ - - - 

They arrived at Ryoken’s apartment complex too soon for his liking, but Takeru still walked him the few steps up to his door. Ryoken wondered if inviting Takeru inside was too much for tonight, then resisted from doing so. Slow, they were taking this _slow_. 

“Thank you for the ride.” Ryoken said, hand fiddling with his door key in his pocket. 

“Don’t mention it.” 

Neither moved to go, yet, something unspoken keeping them there.

“...Alright--” Takeru broke the silence, holding his arms open. “--get over here.” Ryoken blinked, tilting his head in confusion. Takeru rolled his eyes at him, waving his arms a little. “I’m not ending the night without a hug.”

_Oh._

“That’s--”

“C’mon.” Takeru’s grin had a more playful edge to it now. “I know you want to.”

Ryoken frowned, knowing his cheeks had reddened. But instead of being stubborn, he crossed the distance left between them and let Takeru pull him into a hug. 

“You...did you get taller?” Takeru mumbled; his voice came out muffled, face half buried on his shoulder. “I think you did.” He huffed. “This is so unfair.” 

“Maybe.” The smugness definitely seeped into his voice. 

Ryoken sagged against Takeru, wrapping his arms around his shoulders; he practically melted against his warmth. Takeru seemed to do the same, his weight making Ryoken lean back slightly. He had missed this terribly, as well, the physical contact, the ease Takeru had with giving it; he had missed the comfort that having Takeru’s arms around him brought him. Takeru smelled faintly of clothes freshly picked from the dry cleaner, of a sweet and fruity cologne, and something else, something that was purely _his_ and that had always brought Ryoken a sense of safety. 

If he squeezed Takeru a little tighter, nuzzled the top of his head a _little-_ -Takeru definitely mentioned it when they drew back. He had a cheeky grin on his face.

“Someone really missed me, huh?”

Ryoken cleared his throat, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and leaning against his front door.

“Shut up.”

Takeru laughed.

“Back to being stubborn?” He leaned beside Ryoken, hip checking him. “I like you more when you’re honest.”

“I have filled my honesty quota for the night.” Ryoken said flatly but when it earned him another bout of laughter, he couldn’t help but smile, finally able to look at Takeru without reservations. Takeru glanced back, wordlessly, and for a moment it felt like they were back to the days they’d sneak about together, stealing kisses in empty classrooms or Ryoken’s room when his father was away. There was a memory of Takeru getting them into school at night to take a dip in the pool, on a summer night much like this one; their legs sinking in the water as they sat on the edge, their knees bumping together; Takeru’s hands cradling the back of his neck and pulling him in for a kiss, murmuring a confession against his lips.

Ryoken caught himself before he could lean forward, now, close the small gap between them and confirm if Takeru’s kisses could still set his veins on fire. 

“...You should go home.” Ryoken muttered. “It’s late.”

“Yeah.” Takeru scratched the side of his head, eyes flickering around. “You--You still have my number, right?”

“Yes?” 

“Okay, good.” Takeru stepped back. “You can like--you know.”

“...Text you sometime?” Ryoken arched an eyebrow, a corner of his mouth tugging up. “You too, Takeru.” He eyed the empty street. “...Let me know when you get home. If you want.”

“Oh.” For all his initiative before, Takeru still had endearing and awkward moments like these; the tips of his ears were red. “Okay.” He threw a salute over his shoulder as he turned for his bike. “Well, guess I’ll see you, then!”

Ryoken watched him strap his helmet back on and speed off on his bike. Only then did he finally get inside his apartment, sighing and resting against the door. He could have slid off to the floor like a lovestruck teenager from one of Ai’s terrible shows, right then and there. 

He ran a hand down his face then settled it over his chest, curling his fingers over the fabric of his shirt. 

_“I miss you, too.”_

_“Can we try again?”_

_“See you.”_

The words they exchanged tonight buzzed in his head as he chucked off his shoes and made his way into the apartment. Pandor, his grey fluffy cat, meowed at him from the pillow on the bed when he flopped on it unceremoniously and buried his face in the sheets. She pawed at his head until he turned his cheek and petted her in greeting.

Ryoken was tired, from the hour, the rush of the night, but he almost worried that when he fell asleep he’d wake up the next day and what happened tonight was nothing more than his own wishful delusions.

Inevitably, though, half way through petting Pandor’s soft fur, he fell asleep. He woke to the sun hitting his eyelids and a crick on his neck, from sleeping in a terrible position.

As he sat up, his phone slipped from his pocket. When the screen lit up, he saw that he had a new message from a number he hadn’t seen in a long time. 

> [Takeru] [03:00am]: hoooome 
> 
> [Takeru] [03:01am]: good night ! 8’)
> 
> [Takeru] [03:30am]: by the way…would you like to get coffee? and talk? sometime next week?

Last night had really happened. Ryoken breathed in with relief, his mouth curling up against his will. 

> [Ryoken] [10:00am] I’d like that, Takeru.

**Author's Note:**

> This is meant to work as a stand-alone but who knows...I might write a second part sometime ;D
> 
> \--
> 
> I'm also at
> 
> pocketsonny on tumblr  
> @moons0nata (main) and @pocketwriting (wips/ideas) on twitter


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